SteamGate
by Cleo the Muse
Summary: INCOMPLETE, NO PRESENT PLANS TO CONTINUE - Inspector Jack O'Neill and his rookie partner Cameron Mitchell have seen and heard a number of bizarre things while patrolling the night watch. Steampunk AU, Daniel/Vala
1. Chapter 1

**SteamGate**  
All Ages  
Het (Cam/Carolyn), Het (Daniel/Vala), Het (Jack/Janet), Het (Sam/Teal'c), Action/Adventure, AU, Established Relationship, Friendship (Team)  
Episodes: None  
Warnings: None  
Synopsis: Inspector Jack O'Neill and his rookie partner Cameron Mitchell have seen and heard a number of bizarre things while patrolling the night watch. Then Jack meets a wizard named Daniel Jackson, and things get stranger from there!  
Notes: This requires... some explanation. I had an odd little plot bunny bounce up to me one day and ask for a Stargate AU in a steampunk setting. But the bunny wasn't satisfied with just fantastical steam-powered machinery in a Victorian setting, oh no! It _then_ insisted upon throwing in a bit of magic, and thus SteamGate was born...  
Since this particular endeavor is for entertainment only, I'm not bothering too much with historical accuracy. The city in which it is set is probably entirely fictional, but for fun, the city might itself be in one of the American Colonies (which, in this AU, never successfully rebelled against England), instead of the stereotypical Victorian London!

* * *

Chapter 1

Heart pounding, lungs straining against the cold air, Daniel Jackson raced down the street, painfully aware of the heavy footfalls slapping along behind him. Taking a stand and fighting his pursuers wasn't an option, as there were far too many of them even had he not been sick and exhausted. Feeling the hitch in his breath as he pounded down the cobblestones, he knew he was going to have to find some place to hide.

Without warning, his right foot turned under him, skidding across a patch of ice he hadn't seen and sending Daniel tumbling to the ground. Tucking himself into a ball and rolling with the unintended motion, he quickly got his feet under him and tried to stand.

His throbbing ankle and knee sent him back to the ground again. Gasping, Daniel shoved down the pain, scrambled up again, and darted into the darkness of the nearby alley. If luck was with him, he'd find an unlocked door he could slip into, a balcony he could climb onto, or something useful he could shape into a hiding place or weapon.

Luck was not with him. The alley was a short dead-end, blocked by a tall wrought iron fence composed of smooth bars, offering little means to climb it. The yard beyond was empty, dark, and silent, but if Daniel could just get past the barrier before him, he would have a little more time to mount a defense or effect an escape.

Closing his eyes, aware of the way his body was trembling with the combination of adrenaline, fear, illness, and cold, Daniel drew upon the lessons his nanny had instilled in him from an early age. A calm quickly washed over him, and he was able to concentrate on _possibility_.

"Ha! He's trapped now, boys... ain't no way out of this alley 'cept here," cried a triumphant voice from behind him.

"Let's get 'im, then!" crowed another. "The boss is right behind us!"

Their words alarmed Daniel, but he didn't let it break his concentration. Instead, when he opened his eyes, the fence loomed large before him, the gaps between the poles easily wide enough for him to slip through. Grinning to himself, he leapt through the barrier.

And was hauled back rudely. Lashing out at the hands grabbing at his legs, Daniel twisted and sought to free himself. Hearing the howls of pain his actions elicited, he struck again and again until the hands fell away, then dropped to all-fours and tried again to penetrate the fence. This time, a beefy hand closed over his neck, grabbed a handful of his coat, and hoisted him high in the air.

"Got 'im!" boomed his assailant, shaking Daniel like the proverbial rag doll.

"Good work, Mister Tully," came a new voice, one which sent chills down Daniel's spine. As the henchmen turned to greet their boss, Daniel, too, was spun about to face the man who concealed his features behind a jet black mask.

Anubis.

"Well, Jackson, I see you made it easier for us to transport you," Anubis continued, his voice conveying a sneer even though his expression was hidden. "Let's make sure you stay that way for some time, shall we?"

Icy tendrils crept around him, and Daniel hissed in pain. The cold stole his breath, stung his eyes, froze his ears and nose, and wracked his weakened body with shivers. He knew immediately that Anubis had just done something _impossible_, and now his time was running out.

Dimly spotting another of Anubis' goons approaching with a heavy black bag, Daniel fought back with everything he had. Somehow, he was able to grab onto his captor's forearm, twist sharply about, and sink his teeth into the hand holding him.

Tully screamed an expletive, hurling Daniel away from him. Daniel had no time to react before he slammed into a brick wall and fell to the ground, stunned.

"Stop whining and get him!" Anubis snarled.

Fear overrode pain. Scrambling to his feet again, Daniel leapt once more for the fence, this time slipping between the bars and darting around the corner before his would-be abductors could catch him. Knowing he couldn't stop now--not with Anubis so close behind him--he kept his head down, his feet under him, and ran as fast as he could.

He couldn't be certain how long he maintained his pace, but eventually, his injuries began to catch up with him. Energy flagging, Daniel stumbled, fell, and lay on the ground for a long moment, panting through burning lungs in an effort to catch his breath.

He wanted to do nothing more than to curl up right there and fall asleep, but he knew that if he didn't find some shelter or warmth, he'd never wake up again. Dragging himself to his feet once more, Daniel looked up and spotted the tell-tale flickering light of a fire, beckoning to him through the window of a nearby house. All the other houses on the row were dark--understandable, given the late hour--and the promised comfort and warmth the stranger's fire held called to him like a beacon of hope.

Throwing caution to the wind, Daniel slowly made his way to the front door.

***

The coal furnace did an admirable job of spreading warmth throughout the lower rooms of his house, but after a long night patrolling the city streets, Inspector Jack O'Neill still preferred the heat of a well-built fire. Hanging his gloves and coat on their pegs beside the fireplace, he held his fingers out toward the blaze and hummed appreciatively.

It had been yet another strange night. Jack and his rookie partner, Cameron "Cam" Mitchell, had begun their shift in the evening by answering a burglary call to a chemicals factory, from which someone had stolen several barrels of wastewater. Few clues were to be found, and both the police and the factory's owners were baffled as to why someone would go to so much effort to steal a waste product when there were barrels of the more-valuable chemicals nearby!

Things had gotten only more bizarre from there. He and Cam were then summoned out to the house of the widow Missus Humphrey, who insisted a young girl had been walking down the street in front of the widow's house when she suddenly disappeared into thin air. Given the exceptional quality of the gas lighting on River Street, Jack and Cam were at first willing to believe she had seen precisely what she swore she'd seen, but as the woman became increasingly distracted by her horde of pet cats, their skepticism grew. Perhaps, they suggested, she'd looked down for a moment, and the girl had entered a house, or turned a corner.

A man on Ballard Street insisted he heard explosions coming from the house next door, but when the two policemen knocked on the door in question, they were greeted by a raven-haired vixen in a dressing gown who denied such a thing, but brazenly suggested the men could help her create some sparks. Jack quickly declined--for himself and on the gaping Cam's behalf--and they beat a hasty retreat.

The rest of the night was thankfully quiet, though on Jack's walk home, a street sweeper called him over and told him that he had seen a well-dressed young man--a "young toff" were his exact words--being chased by thugs. With few details available, Jack had been forced to do no more than take note of the incident, and save it to be reported when he returned to work the next evening.

A soft noise at his door caught his attention, and just as he began to think he'd imagined it, he heard it again. Drawing his Colt revolver, Jack stepped up to the front door and cautiously opened it, but there was no one there. Jack had cleared his throat in preparation to call out when something brushed against his leg.

Jumping back, he was startled to see a striped brown cat limping past him, making a direct line for the crackling fire in the nearby den. As Jack stood and stared in surprise at the small intruder, the hind leg the cat had been favoring collapsed under it, and the creature crumpled well short of the hearth.

Jack wasn't terribly fond of cats--the incessantly meowing menagerie Widow Humphrey tended was a perfect example of why--but he hated to see any animal hurt, and this poor cat was clearly in pain. Shutting the front door and bolting it once again, Jack returned his revolver to the drawer of his door-side table. The cat flinched as Jack's booted feet approached it, but it was either too tired or too injured to react much further, and merely lay panting on the floor.

"What happened to you?" Jack asked gently, kneeling beside the fallen feline and reaching toward it. It permitted his touch, and he stroked the soft fur carefully. It squeaked softly when his fingers trailed across its right shoulder, and again when he touched the hind leg, but it thankfully didn't attempt to scratch him.

Standing again, Jack decided that the least he could do was try to make the wounded animal more comfortable. In the kitchen, he found a shallow breadbasket and a few old cleaning rags, which he used to fashion a make-shift cat bed. Returning to the foyer, he carefully lifted the cat into the basket, then carried the basket into the den and placed it on the hearth.

By the time he returned from the kitchen again with a light meal of crackers, cheese, and sausage, the cat was fast asleep.

***

Vala Mal Doran stormed into the house on Ballard Street and slammed the door behind her, producing a satisfying racket that sent the wall sconces rattling. Samantha Carter and Teal'c were just putting away the last of the breakfast the trio had shared earlier, having determined--apparently correctly--that their fourth friend would not be joining them.

"I can't find him," Vala declared, storming into the dining room and throwing her cloak at the settee next to the window. She followed the garment down, and covered her eyes with a dramatically draped arm.

"Daniel Jackson is a resourceful man," began the muscular African, Teal'c. "Perhaps he will return as soon as he is able."

Vala shook her head. "The trail went _cold_. The bond between us allows us to find one another anywhere we go, but the thread I was following ended in a small alley."

Sam bit her lower lip. "What could have caused that?"

Sitting up, Vala looked solemnly at each of her friends in turn. "It's _impossible_."

The pretty blonde stared in shock, while the muscles in Teal'c's jaw twitched in agitation. "Anubis," they guessed in concert.

"If not him, than some other dark wizard we don't know about," Vala confirmed. "There's another possibility, but I refuse to believe it: he may be dead."

Sam was a scientist, not a wizard, so she often had difficulty reconciling the strange and magical things her friends could do. Still, she did her best to maintain an open mind, especially after the many times Daniel had proven to her that _anything_ was possible. "Is this a feeling you have or, uh, something else?"

Vala pursed her lips. "A little of both, I suppose. I would think I would have felt it had he been killed, but I never sensed anything was wrong until I stood at the end of that alley. Now I have the strangest feeling nagging me... like listening to only the first part of a symphony, and always wondering what the rest would have sounded like."

"Daniel Jackson may be in need of rescue," Teal'c reasoned. "We should employ someone to scout Anubis' holdings and determine a likely place he may be hiding our friend."

"I'd do it myself--" Vala began.

"You cannot."

"--but if I'm caught, too, there will be no one left to help you with your work."

Teal'c nodded. "Indeed. Last night's mishap with the boiler would have been most disastrous had you not been there to contain it."

At the reminder, Sam grimaced. "I _know_ I can get more pressure out of those machines, but I think the iron we've been using is too low-quality. What I _really_ need is some steel, but it will be terribly expensive to purchase as much as we need."

"And without Daniel to sign off on the finances, there's no chance of getting the funds anyway," Vala finished. "Unless..."

"No! Daniel nearly got himself thrown in jail protecting you after your _last_ attempted burglary," Sam reminded her, causing the dark-haired woman to grimace in remembrance. "My experiments can wait. We need to find Daniel first, not just because he's our financier, but because he's our _friend_."

Vala nodded. "One thing's for certain," she began, "we can't go to the authorities. Daniel disappeared by magic, and I doubt there's anything they could tell us, nor would they believe that a friend of Lord Kinsey's would be behind it. Besides, I think I might have left those policemen from last night with a rather poor impression."

Sam and Teal'c, knowing Vala's flirtatious ways, had no trouble believing that.

***

Light flooded the room, awakening Jack with its sudden brilliance.

"Gah!" he exclaimed, grabbing a pillow and throwing it over his head. "Do you have to do that _every_ time?"

"It works, doesn't it?"

Peeling the bedding away carefully, he glared at his housekeeper, Janet Fraiser. "That's beside the point."

"Or maybe it _is_ the point, sir," she smirked. "By the way, Cassie is absolutely delighted you brought her a cat."

_Cat?_ For a moment Jack hadn't a clue what Janet meant, but then he suddenly remembered his early-morning visitor. "The cat!" he exclaimed, leaping out of bed.

"Colonel O'Neill!" the housekeeper called from behind him, shocked at both his sudden movement and his state of undress. Slowing long enough to grab a robe and belt it over his drawers, Jack tore down the stairs and raced into the den.

Cassandra, Janet's daughter, was kneeling next to the hearth, carefully caressing the ears of the cat curled up in the breadbasket-bed. "Uncle Jack!" she exclaimed excitedly. "He's such a _beautiful_ kitty! Have you seen his pretty eyes?"

Jack stared for a long moment. "Be careful with him, Cass," he admonished. "I think he's hurt pretty badly."

The girl nodded soberly. "I know. His right side seems to hurt him a lot and he's breathing funny. He doesn't want to eat or drink anything, but Momma says she's going to try to feed him with her eyedropper."

Somehow, that didn't surprise Jack O'Neill at all. Janet was rapidly gaining a reputation as a talented herbalist, and her skills were much sought-after by those who mistrusted the blood-letters who called themselves physicians. "So your Momma is doctoring animals now, is she?"

"It's not so different from caring for humans, Colonel," answered Janet, sweeping into the den with a small dish of milk and her prized glass eyedropper, "although animals generally complain less."

Having been on the receiving end of Fraiser's ministrations a time or two, Jack recognized the playful barb. "Only because they can't speak." He curled his hands. "Then again, if I had claws, I'd speak with _those_."

Janet seated herself on the floor beside the hearth and placed the dish and eyedropper on Jack's ottoman. Cassie carefully handed her the basket, which the diminutive housekeeper arranged on her lap. "This beautiful boy won't hurt me," she cooed, stroking the cat under the chin. "Will you, sweetie?"

Jack snorted and left in search of his own food.

The living arrangements at the O'Neill house were considered somewhat scandalous, given the fact that both of its adult occupants were currently unmarried. Janet's husband had served under Jack in the Army several years ago, and after the deaths of his own wife and son, Jack found himself in need of a housekeeper and cook. The recently-widowed Janet was also in need of occupation, and Jack insisted there was no need for Janet or her young daughter to try to maintain their own home in addition to his, and invited the Fraisers to live with him.

Having Janet in the house ensured Jack always had a clean, warm, inviting house to come home to, home-cooked meals on the table or in the icebox, and an intelligent conversationalist with whom he could trade witticisms. Having Cassie in the house went a long way toward filling the aching silence in Jack's heart where his son used to be. Although the girl had initially called him by his old Army rank--as her mother still did--within a few months, the policeman had her calling him "Uncle Jack", instead.

After helping himself to the leftover chicken and potatoes from Janet and Cassie's lunch, Jack returned to his bedroom to dress for the day. Returning to the den afterward, he found a note from Janet explaining that she and Cassie had gone to do the shopping and would return later. Looking down at the hearth, Jack noted that while the cat was still curled in its basket, it did look a little more comfortable than it had earlier.

"Looks like it's just you and me, cat," Jack smiled, causing the cat to twitch an ear and look up at him.

Cassie had been right: the cat _did_ have pretty eyes. Jack had never before seen a tabby with blue eyes, but the remarkable shade somehow suited the well-muscled tom. There was also a surprising amount of intelligence behind those pain-filled eyes, and Jack got the sense the cat was thanking him for allowing him into his house.

"You're welcome," he answered, and the cat's eyes slid closed again.

Selecting a book from the collection Janet had purchased the previous week, Jack settled into his favorite chair, propped his feet up on the ottoman, and proceeded to waste away the afternoon.

***

"Anubis doesn't have him."

Sam gaped. "Are you certain?"

Martin Lantash spread his hands. "As certain as we can be. Jo and I followed a group of his hired heavies to a pub, and listened in while they complained about their boss. It seems they _did_ catch Daniel--though they didn't call him by name--but he managed to get away. Anubis is livid, and taking it out on his underlings, insisting they won't be paid again until he's found."

The blond-haired engineer breathed a sigh of relief, though she still harbored concerns regarding her friend's mysterious disappearance. She reached into her reticule to withdraw some money, but Jocelyn LeNar closed her hand over Sam's wrist. "You owe us nothing," she insisted. "Were it not for Lord Jackson's intervention, a great many Tok'ra might have been harmed by Lord Kinsey's short-sightedness. Marty and I will continue to find out what we can, and will contact you or Teal'c as soon as we know something."

Smiling at the bohemians, Sam thanked them again and hurried out of the park. Once back to the house on Ballard Street, she slipped upstairs to her room, shed the uncomfortable dress and undergarments deemed "appropriate" for a middle-class woman, and changed into her more-comfortable--and considerably more practical--blouse and riding skirt. After determining neither Vala nor Teal'c had returned from meeting with their own contacts, Sam returned to the ground floor, entered the kitchen, and set about preparing the evening meal.

The Jackson house was a marvelous meshing of technical and magical wizardry. Though Sam and Daniel came from two completely different schools of thought, when they put their heads together, they could create almost anything imaginable. Daniel used his magic to divert a small portion of the nearby river through the cellar, creating a small waterfall which kept a small cistern constantly supplied with fresh water. Sam then built a waterwheel to produce hydro-power and added both a boiler and a condenser to the cistern, which insured the water was safe for drinking, and Teal'c installed a series of pipes throughout the house that ensured the clean water was carried directly to the rooms in which it was needed.

The hydro-power produced by the waterwheel was used in a number of ways. One use involved powering a small pump in the cellar which forced the purified water through the pipes, but that was made possible only by the magic handles Daniel created, which when activated, turned on the pump and directed the water to the desired spigot. Sam also found out--quite by accident--that a rod made of a nickel-chromium alloy grew very hot when exposed to hydro-power, and happily installed a number of the rods in the kitchen stove. Teal'c constructed metal housings to encase more of the rods, which were then placed in each room and provided comfortable warmth without the need for a coal furnace to provide it.

With the only coal furnace confined to the cellar--and its smoke diverted outside via a tightly-sealed chimney--the Jackson house remained remarkably clean, especially after Daniel created invisible air filters for the doors and windows. With no soot blackening the furnishings, Vala had run amok in the trade district, spending a handsome sum on new upholstery, draperies, and wallpaper, thereby brightening the interior of the stately old house.

Sam smiled to herself as she recalled another contribution Vala had made to the house: an enchanted icicle which never melted. Though the item's creation had been an error in the often whimsical woman's early forays into wizardry, Sam and Teal'c soon devised a use for it. Adding yet another layer of complexity to the machinery in the cellar, the engineer and the blacksmith constructed a second set of pipes to house a pair of hydro-powered fans, which blew air across the icicle. The chilled air was then conducted to the icebox in the kitchen, and during the summer months, could be diverted through the vented boxes which housed the heat rods.

Hot and cold running water, warmed and chilled vented air, and kitchen tools which could rapidly heat or cool foods... the Jackson house was packed from cellar to attic with magical and mechanical marvels! As Sam removed vegetables from the icebox and set about washing and slicing them, she allowed her mind to roam free at the possibilities working closely with a pair of wizards afforded her. Perhaps she could create gas lamps which turned on at the flip of a switch!

She sobered then, thinking on the more-experienced of the two wizards. Something must have gone terribly wrong when Anubis' henchmen caught up to Daniel, or the young marquess would have long since returned. Sam knew Daniel was considered eccentric by his peerage--a view only furthered by the public ravings of his elderly grandfather, Nicholas Ballard, the Duke of Stargate--but Daniel was actually a quite directed person. Unfortunately, directed sometimes meant "obsessed", which was yet another trait--besides insatiable curiosity--which he shared with Sam.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and Sam turned about in time to see Teal'c disappear through the hatch leading down into the cellar. A few minutes later, he emerged again, and Sam guessed he'd gone down to re-stock the boiler with coal. The broad-shouldered African could shovel coal faster and longer than anyone Sam had ever met, and since tending to boilers was necessary in an engineer's work, she had yet another reason to be glad she'd befriended the large man.

Teal'c retired to his room to wash up, and returned to the kitchen just as Vala came in from the cold, stomping her feet to shake off accumulated snow and muttering under her breath. By silent consent, the trio waited until they were all seated at the dining table before sharing what they had learned.

"Anubis doesn't have him," Vala began, unknowingly echoing Marty's earlier proclamation. "Lord Kinsey's coachman said that Kinsey and Anubis have been having quiet meetings for several days now, and each time, Kinsey returns to the carriage in a terribly foul mood. Kinsey wants Daniel gone to clear the way for inheritance of Stargate, but I imagine he'd be insufferably smug if Anubis had captured or killed Daniel."

Nodding, Sam filled in her friends on what Marty and Jo had shared with her, including the promise the Tok'ra had made to continue searching. Teal'c then reported that he learned little from the dockworkers and day-laborers, but he did hear second-hand of a street sweeper who flagged down a night watchman to report having spotted a "toff" being pursued by thugs. The incident was filed the next morning, but with no means to identify the alleged victim, the case was not being pursued.

Despite their continued concern for their absent friend, the trio was grateful for that small, hopeful bit of news: Anubis had not captured Daniel.

***

A week had passed since Jack's house acquired a new resident, but already, he felt more than comfortable with the cat's presence. For the first several days, the small animal had been unable to do little more than sleep, but now his legs were stronger and his breathing easier, and he was finally able to eat and drink on his own. He still looked severely rumpled and half-wild, but Jack supposed Blue--for that's what Cassie called him--must have always looked that way.

As Blue healed, Cassie tried to get him to play with a string toy she'd made for him, but the cat had ignored the trailing object. Several days later, however, Jack had moved the toy in preparation to throw it out, and Blue had gamely pounced on it, smacked it around a few times, then ran and hid under the stove for several hours.

Today, after Janet and Cassie left to do the shopping, Jack had settled into his favorite chair with a book, but Blue had taken over the ottoman for a nap. Jack lifted the cat into his lap, propped his feet up on the foot rest, and pretended to read, all the while watching to see what Blue would do. Perhaps deciding his new location was just as good as his old one, Blue curled up and resumed his interrupted nap.

Now that he was eating on his own again, Blue was filling back out, and seemed to weigh nearly two stone. He was a comfortable weight on Jack's lap, and the policeman found himself idly stroking the cat's fur. It wasn't as soft as he recalled it being several days ago, but when Jack thought back, he realized he'd never seen Blue indulge in the usually-endless feline pass-time of self-grooming.

"You're a terribly odd cat, you know that?"

Blue's ear twitched, and the cat turned to stare at him with those strangely intelligent eyes. Suddenly he leapt off Jack's lap, hit the ground running, and proceeded to race through the house like his tail was on fire. Alarmed, Jack rose to his feet and followed, but found himself unable to keep up with the fleet-footed and agile beast. Finally, the cat seemed to have spent its sudden burst of energy, and the policeman tracked the manic animal into his kitchen.

There, he found a strange sight: Blue had torn open Janet's sack of sugar and spread the white granules across the wooden floor. Jack yelled at the cat for its destructiveness and took a step forward to chase him out of the kitchen, but Blue growled at him and hissed. Surprised at the usually-friendly cat's behavior, Jack backed off and waited to see what Blue would do next.

After a moment, Blue turned around and began dragging his front paw through the mess. From his current angle, Jack couldn't see anything in the sugar that would have attracted the odd cat's attention, but the deliberate motions he performed gave clear indication this wasn't just the act of a playful feline.

Finally, the Blue seemed satisfied with his work, and sat down next to the mess he'd made, daintily wrapping his tail around his front paws. Curiosity winning over irritation, Jack approached the now-calm cat and looked down at the spilled sugar. There, in plain but crude print letters, was the word "HELP".

Jack blinked and stared, first at the plea, then at the cat. "I've never seen a cat who could write!"

Blue shook his head.

"You can't write, or you're not a cat?"

Blue shook his head, then nodded.

"You _look_ like a cat."

Blue sighed.

"Right." Jack pulled out a step stool Janet used and sat on it. "So you need my help?" Nod. "With what?" Blue answered this with a plaintive meow. "Right... 'yes or no' questions only." Nod. "Oookay, then... well if you're not a cat, then do you need my help turning you back into whatever it is you're supposed to be?" Nod. "Do you know how to do it?" Nod.

Jack sighed, thinking this could take a very long time. Then again, he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't still asleep, since he was sitting in his kitchen, talking to a cat! "Is there some sort of spell I'm supposed to cast?" Blue shook his head 'no'. "A potion I need to make?" Head-shake. "Then _what_? I'm I supposed to find the witch who did this to you and make her change you back?"

Blue shook his head vehemently, then, leapt into Jack's lap. Standing on his hind paws, the cat stretched up and patted at Jack's cheek until the policeman lowered his head toward him. Then, he placed both front paws on Jack's cheeks and touched his forehead to Jack's own.

Jack sat there for a long moment, feeling very foolish. Then, just as he began to move to pinch himself awake, the cat sat back on its haunches.

«Can you hear me now?»

Jack jumped, dislodging Blue from his lap. "What the hell?"

«Can you hear me now?»

He stared down at the blue-eyed cat, whose tail was impatiently swishing. "Blue?"

«My name is Daniel. Please, Colonel O'Neill, I'm having a hard time concentrating.»

"Oh." Jack shook his head, pinched himself once just to be sure, then sat back down on the stool. "So... not only a cat who can write, but a cat who can _talk_."

«It's not talking... exactly. And I'm not a cat. I'm a person, but I got trapped like this by An... an evil wizard.»

Jack's eyebrows rose. "A wizard, you say? Like Merlin? Simon Magus? Martin the Marvelous?"

«What?»

"That was a joke," he answered. "He's a street magician whom I saw performing at the park this summer. A complete charlatan, of course, but rather entertaining."

«Martin the Marvelous is a friend of mine. His name is actually Martin Lantash.»

Jack closed his eyes and scrubbed at his forehead. "Oh... so he really is a magician?"

«No, a charlatan street performer. He's a good man, though.» Apparently tired of constantly looking up at Jack, Blue--or _Daniel_, rather--jumped onto the kitchen table. «I need your help to find someone, Colonel. I... a few of my friends live on Ballard Street, but I don't know where that is from here.»

"It's not very far. This is Hargrave Street."

Daniel closed his eyes. «In my current form, that _is_ far. I--» He broke off, swayed, and spread his front paws to regain his balance. «I'm sorry... talking with you this way is very demanding. Can you take me there?»

Although he was still half-convinced he was having a very bizarre dream, Jack agreed. "It'll take me a few moments to dress for the cold," he warned, gesturing at his smoking jacket, flannel trousers, and slippers. "I have tonight off, so I was planning to stay in."

«I'm sorry, but I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important. The longer I stay in this form, the harder it becomes to concentrate, and the more my feline instincts kick in. I've barely been resisting the urge to groom, but I do _not_ want to find myself chasing rats any time soon.»

Despite the gravity of the poor not-cat's situation, Jack couldn't help but chuckle. "It's fine. You stay right there and rest; I'll be right back."

***

"Next stop, Ballard Street," Colonel O'Neill announced quietly.

«Thank goodness,» Daniel answered, breathing a small sigh of relief. «Really, I can't thank you enough for helping me, Colonel. You gave me shelter, food, a place to heal--»

"Well, you can start by calling me 'Jack'," the man interrupted. "I haven't been a colonel since my days in the Army, no matter what my housekeeper may still call me. I'm a policeman, now, a night watchman."

«So I should call you Inspector O'Neill?»

"Aht! I don't share my coat with just any cat, Daniel. Call me Jack."

Daniel felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment. Really, there was nothing odd about a man carrying a cat inside of his coat, but since Daniel was a grown man in mind (though presently not in body), snuggling against the colonel's--Jack's--chest made him feel a little foolish.

But also extremely safe.

"Ballard Street. Poke your little furry head out here and tell me which house."

«We turned onto the street from Saint James? Then it is the fourth house on the right.»

"You didn't even look."

«I shouldn't have to. I live there, too.»

"You live here, too? Why didn't--oh, wait, _I_ know this house."

«You do?»

"Yeah. The night you came to my door, I answered a complaint from one of your neighbors... he said he thought he heard explosions coming from your house. I knocked on your door, but a rather frightening young woman sent my partner and me packing."

Daniel couldn't chuckle in his current form, but he could project the sound of a laugh to the man carrying him. «Blonde or brunette?»

Instead of answering, Jack knocked on the door. A few moments later, Daniel heard the sound of the front door opening, and he wriggled around so that he could stick his head outside of Jack's coat.

"You again!" Vala exclaimed, planting her hand on her hip and cocking her head. "Well, your partner's not with you this time, so may I assume you're back for a little one-on-one?"

Jack coughed. "Actually, I'm here to return your cat."

"Cat?"

«Vala!»

The raven-haired wizard blinked. "Daniel!" She practically lunged at Jack, digging into his coat and extracting Daniel. "Oh, Daniel, we've been so worried about you! I lost your trail in an alley, and I couldn't be sure if you were dead or just badly, badly, hurt, or if you'd been kidnapped or--"

«Vala!» Catching the note of desperation in his mental voice, Vala released her tight hold around him. «Can we take this inside? Inspector O'Neill carried me all the way here from Hargrave, and the least we can do is see that he has a chance to warm himself.»

Vala looked from him to Jack and back again. "Are you sure? He's a policeman, and--"

"He's standing right here," Jack interrupted, amused by the conversation between the cat and the dark-haired woman.

«I trust him, Vala. He saved my life.»

She eyed Jack with new appreciation. "Well, that's reason enough, then! Come in, Inspector O'Neill, come inside and warm yourself."

"Thanks," Jack remarked dryly, stomping his boots on the stoop to shake off any loose snow.

"Sam! Teal'c! Daniel's home!" Vala called out, tucking Daniel against her shoulder and carrying him into the parlor. After setting him down in his favorite chair, she turned to Jack and waved him toward another of the plush chairs.

"You have a very beautiful home," Jack offered politely, craning his neck to take in the bright colors and patterns Vala had chosen when she re-decorated the house. "It must take your servants an eternity to clean."

«I don't have any servants, Jack, and it doesn't take long at all. This house has been made free of dust and soot, so cleaning is required only once a month or so.» Daniel wasn't one to brag, but he was extremely proud of the collective efforts he and his friends had made to turn this house into the cleanest and most comfortable place in town.

"Free of dust and...? But it's so _warm_ in here!"

Glad to have something important to do, Vala pointed to the heatbox near the window and explained its function to Jack. As she spoke, the clattering of feet sounded from the hall, and Sam and Teal'c rushed into the room, covered head-to-toe in soot.

«Free of soot except in the cellar,» Daniel corrected in amusement.

"Where is Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c asked, scanning the room and not seeing who he thought he would.

Remembering that neither Sam nor Teal'c had seen him in this form as often as Vala had, Daniel stood up from his perch, turned a circle, and sat back down.

"Daniel's the cat?"

"He _can_ shape-change, you know," Vala reminded them. "But my guess is, An--er, an evil wizard has made it _impossible_ for him to change back."

«You're right,» Daniel confirmed, «but since I don't want to waste the energy trying to project my thoughts to four of you at once, can we proceed with changing me back?»

Vala knelt next to his chair. "How?"

«The same way you change yourself, but picture _me_, instead. Once you make it _possible_ for me to become human again, the... uh, curse should be broken.»

"Wait, she's a wizard?" Jack interrupted, then stared at Daniel. "You're a wizard, too?"

Daniel sighed. «Yes, Jack. But please don't interrupt us; Vala needs to concentrate.»

Thankfully, Jack fell silent. Vala's face screwed up in concentration, and after a moment, Daniel began to feel his limbs tingling. Joining his own efforts to hers, he quickly found himself back in his natural, human form.

"You're back!" Vala exclaimed, tackling him around the neck and hugging him tightly. And she was right, too: the bond between them had returned at the same time as his human form.

"It is good to see you again, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c smiled, grasping his forearm in the manner of his African forebears.

"Welcome home," Sam chimed in, hugging him almost as tightly as Vala was.

"It's good to be back," he whispered, "but ladies... I _really_ need to breathe."

***

One minute, Jack had been staring at a grown woman staring intently at a cat, and in the next, said woman was hugging the life out of a broad-shouldered young man. It wasn't until the large African spoke the man's name again that Jack was able to piece two and two together.

"You're Marquess Jackson!" he exclaimed, having seen the heir-presumptive of Stargate while standing guard at a fancy party last month.

Finally released from the enthusiastic embrace of his admirers, Daniel nodded and smiled. "I am, though I try not to let it bother me."

"Bother you?"

Daniel shrugged sheepishly. "I'm sure you've heard stories about Nicholas Ballard. Most of them are true, sadly."

Jack's eyebrows rose. He _had_ heard stories about the mad ravings the powerful duke was known for breaking into, but he'd believed them to be little more than wildly-exaggerated gossip. "If you say so, Lord Jackson."

"No!" Daniel exclaimed, standing. "Just Daniel, please. I don't care what titles I may have been born to, Jack, I would be honored to call you friend. Please do me the honor of continuing to call me by my given name, as my other friends do."

For the first time, Jack got a good look at those Daniel called his friends, and was taken aback by what an odd lot they were. The largest of the three was the enormous African with the deep but gentle voice. Next to him was a surprisingly tall woman--nearly as tall as Daniel--with a shock of short blond hair just barely visible behind the fine layer of soot covering every visible part of her skin and clothes. The third was Vala, the attractive brunette, who was considerably shorter than her companions but still tall for a woman.

"I seem to be in good company," he managed, at loss for anything else to say.

"Inspector Jack O'Neill, I'd like you to meet Teal'c of Chulak, a freedman and very good friend," Daniel began, and the tall African inclined his head gracefully in greeting. "Next to me is Samantha Carter--she prefers 'Sam'--the engineer responsible for many of the useful devices in this house. Last, but not least, is Vala Mal Doran, my fiancée."

"Fiancée?" Jack choked, unable to imagine the flirtatious woman as the dutiful wife of a wealthy nobleman.

Daniel chuckled. "Er, yes... that was quite my grandfather's reaction when I first told him. However, while he may have been willing to disinherit my mother for marrying my father while my uncle Edward was still alive, he can hardly do the same thing to his only living descendant." He shared a knowing look with his three friends. "The next in line to inherit Stargate is his cousin, Baron Robert Kinsey."

Jack couldn't hold back the grimace that crossed his face at the mention of the overbearing, volatile nobleman. Kinsey had crossed paths with the old police commissioner--George Hammond, now retired--and had recently been trying to throw his weight around with the new commissioner, Henry Landry. So far, Landry wasn't budging any more than Hammond had, and Kinsey had let his displeasure be known.

Loudly. Publicly. _Frequently_.

Fortunately, a baron had little weight to throw around, but if he were to inherit the fortunes and titles of a _duke_, then Kinsey would gain considerable influence. _That_, as far as Jack was concerned, would never be a good thing, and he mentally thanked the eccentric Nicholas Ballard for despising Kinsey as much as Jack himself did.

"You know, I think I may get to like Duke Ballard after all," he joked, drawing laughter from the mismatched quartet standing before him. But his investigative mind was already whirling through the possibilities. "With you as-yet unmarried or a father, Kinsey would stand to gain a lot should you, ah, mysteriously disappear."

"You are a wise man, O'Neill," Teal'c remarked.

Daniel licked his lips. "Jack... we can't prove anything because he always wears a mask, but the dark wizard who nearly got me killed last week was James Anubis."

"James Anubis... I know that name."

"He's the bastard son of Lord Osiris and a business partner of Kinsey's," Vala explained. "He was taught by the same wizard who trained Daniel, but she cut him off when she found out he was using magic for evil purposes. He hates Daniel with a passion, and has staged a number of 'accidents' in the last several months, any of which would have killed a normal man."

"Unfortunately, we can't exactly walk up to the police and say, 'there's an evil wizard trying to kill the Stargate heir', now can we?" added Sam.

Jack shook his head. "I can see where that might sound a bit... odd."

"A bit," Daniel agreed. "I must confess, it feels good to be able to talk about this to someone. The four of us have been keeping this among ourselves for so long, but we've been _trying_ not to let it bother us."

The policeman shrugged. "Well, I'm glad I could help you blow off a little steam."

Sam snapped her fingers. "That's it! Teal'c, I bet we can make it work if we add a few valves! That way, when the steam builds to a critical pressure, it will escape instead of blowing the barrel!"

"An excellent idea," the large man agreed, and the two hurried out of the parlor, leaving a cloudy trail of soot behind them.

Jack turned back to stare at Daniel, an incredulous expression on his face. The wizard merely shrugged, placed his arm around Vala's shoulders, and answered, "She's an engineer. She's _good_ at blowing stuff up."

TBC!

* * *

Author's Notes:  
I know, I know... I have no business starting up a new AU novel when I have SO many other stories I should be working on... but this one won't leave me alone!


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: At this point, it has become evident that a few more pairings are in this story than just Daniel/Vala. The pairings list now includes Cam/Carolyn, and eventually Sam/Teal'c and Jack/Janet.

* * *

Chapter 2

When Jack arrived home, he was greeted by a red-faced Janet Fraiser. "Where have you _been_?" she demanded, auburn hair flying out of its usually pristine coif.

"Around," he answered vaguely, taking off his coat and hat and hanging them at the door. "What's going on?"

"Cassie and I came home and found you gone. You left no note in the den, but when I entered the kitchen, I found 'HELP' scrawled in some spilled sugar!" she exclaimed, fisting her hands on her hips. "I've called the Watch out looking for you!"

Jack winced, thinking, not for the first time, that the Army would do well to have an officer like Janet Fraiser. Somehow, she possessed the ability to intimidate almost anyone, despite the fact that she just barely cleared five feet in height. When standing in front of the tall, lanky policeman as she was now, the top of her head was near his chin, but Jack felt as low as the floor.

It was a shame they didn't let women serve!

"I'm sorry, Missus Fraiser, but I went for a walk, and forgot all about the sugar spill."

Janet didn't look convinced. "And what possessed you to tear a hole in the sack and write 'HELP' in it? You have a peculiar sense of humor, sir, but I found this not the _slightest_ bit amusing."

Jack opened his mouth to explain, but shut it without saying a word. How _could_ he explain the events of this evening? It wasn't every day one discovered that the pet cat was actually a wizard who'd changed form to escape his enemies, but then found himself inexplicably trapped in the new shape.

He rubbed his temples. Right… and the whole thing didn't sound crazy even to _him_.

"Momma, I can't find Blue, either!" exclaimed Cassie, running down the stairs. She stopped when she reached the bottom, noting Jack and her mother standing in the foyer. "Uncle Jack, you're back!"

"Cassie!" he exclaimed, and opened his arms for a hug. Not that he was avoiding answering Janet or--

"Uncle Jack, where have you been?"

The apple, it seemed, had not fallen far from its tree. "I went for a walk, like I told your mother." He glanced over his shoulder at Janet, who was clearly expecting him to keep talking. "I found out where, uh, 'Blue' lived, Cass, so I took him home."

"Oh." Cassie looked disappointed. "Will we ever see him again?"

"Well, I'm not sure," he answered, though he had a feeling he, at least, would meet Daniel Jackson and his unusual friends again.

"How did you learn of this?" Janet asked. "And why was 'HELP' written on the floor in spilled sugar?"

He sighed. "Janet, I doubt you'd believe me if I told you. I hardly believe it myself, and I was there. Suffice to say, the note in the sugar was not intended for you or Cassie, nor was I ever in any danger during my walk. Now... I will see about calling off the Watch, so can we let this matter drop?"

The housekeeper looked none-too-pleased. "Of course, sir. Will sir require anything else?"

Jack winced. He'd come to think of Janet and her daughter as family, and he _hated_ it when she reminded him that she was still "the hired help"... especially since she did it only when she was miffed at him.

The hired help...

"Yes, there will be," he began, turning to face her directly and clamping down on the urge to grin cheekily. "You do your best to keep me in line, do all of the cooking, cleaning, and mending--all the while teaching Cassie how to do these same things--and _still _manage to find time to help others with your herbal remedies. How do you fit all that in a single day?" She opened her mouth to answer, but Jack plowed on. "I intend to rectify this immediately. Tomorrow, I'm taking out an advertisement for a maid and a valet, and I'd like you to screen the applicants and verify their references. You work _entirely_ too hard, and I think it's high time you got some help around here... don't you?"

It wasn't often Jack got one over on the quick-witted Janet, but he was pleased to see he'd left her entirely at loss for words.

* * *

Daniel hated it when he paced because he'd always believed pacing was a sign of nervousness, lack of preparation, or insecurity. Despite what Vala, Sam, and occasionally even Teal'c liked to say, he was _not_ an insecure person. In fact, he was always confident in his knowledge and abilities, especially those pertaining to his chosen fields of study. If he was so "insecure", would he ever have agreed to teach Vala how to harness her own magical gifts?

He wasn't "insecure" when it came to relationships, either. Despite the deaths of his parents when he was a small boy, his uncle when he was studying in England, and the decade-old loss of his first wife to ague, Daniel was confident in his friendships with Vala, Teal'c, and Sam, and had a good feeling about Jack O'Neill. Where he was _not _so sure of himself was in the eyes of his grandfather.

"His Grace will see you now, Lord Jackson," announced the butler, holding the door open to grant him passage.

"Thank you, Spencer," Daniel acknowledged, entering his grandfather's state room.

As a young man, Nicholas Ballard had become captivated with the ruins and remnants of the ancient civilizations of Central America, and had shamelessly used distant family ties to the Spanish king to buy him passage into the jungles. After becoming Duke of Stargate, Nicholas was forced to give up most of his forays into the wilderness, but during his adventurous years, he accumulated a number of treasures from his excursions. The antechamber of his suite was adorned with engraved stone panels, jade masks and figurines, and clay cups and vases. Nick had even commissioned a painter to travel with him during one of his excursions, and though the man had died of fever a few months later, he'd had time to duplicate to canvas a mural found in one of the ancient temples.

The most striking piece of the collection--and the only one which never failed to send a chill down Daniel's spine when he looked at it--was a skull carved from a single flawless piece of rose quartz. Since Nick's return from Central America with the disturbing artifact, a number of similar pieces began to appear on the antiquities market, but none gave Daniel the strange feeling the Ballard skull did. The others were clever fakes, he was certain, but Nick's skull was a genuine article, imbued with a strange and mysterious power beyond Daniel's understanding.

"Daniel!" the elderly duke called, emerging from his study. "I am pleased you could attend me at such short notice."

"I fill my days with study and scholarship, Your Grace, therefore my schedule remains rather flexible," Daniel replied diplomatically, choosing to _not_ mention that he'd had to postpone a planned test of Sam's latest invention.

Seating himself in front of the fireplace, Nick motioned Daniel to the other chair and gave a nod to his valet, who left the suite. "Perhaps, Daniel, after all this time... you might consider addressing me more familiarly."

Daniel had just begun to settle into his seat, but froze when his grandfather spoke. "Your Grace?" he questioned, frowning.

Before the duke could answer, there was a knock at the suite door. The valet then entered bearing a silver tray, which he placed upon the small round table set between the chairs. He then departed again, closing the door behind him.

"You are my grandson, Daniel," Nick explained, selecting one of the small sandwiches from the tray, "and my only living descendant. No matter what choices you have made or your parents made for you, nothing will change that. I only regret that I had not realized the same before your mother died."

Daniel had to set his tea cup and saucer down before he spilled his drink everywhere. "What brought this on... uh, sir?"

Nick's bushy brows lowered. "Old age and regrets. I am sorry for not taking you in when your parents died, and more sorry than I can say for refusing Edward the right to do the same. I fear I may have been punishing you for the anger your mother and father brought out in me, but I should have seen that none of it was your fault."

"I was only eight years old," Daniel reminded him coldly. "How could it have been my fault?"

The duke took a sip of his own tea. "Old age and regrets, Daniel. They have brought about in me the wisdom the arrogance of my younger years would not permit, and the clarity of purpose once clouded by an obsession with--" he waved his arm expansively at his collection of artifacts "--the distant, unreachable past. I should have paid more attention to my own past, my own present, and my own future." Nick leaned across the arm of his chair, placing his hand on his grandson's shoulder. "_You_ are my future, Daniel, as were your mother and uncle. Perhaps, had I paid closer attention, we would not have lost either of them."

Daniel's heart was beating loudly in his ears. So much of what he had always longed to hear his grandfather say was now being said, but a lifetime of disappointment had left him cautious where Nick was concerned. Only a few weeks ago, at a small function hosted by the Earl Des Plaines, Nick had very loudly and insistently begun decrying the policies of a man he named "President Buchanan", and seemed unable to refer to the earl's holdings as anything but "Chicago".

No one knew who Buchanan was nor over what organization he presided. Having studied many of the languages native to the American Colonies as well as those of Europe, Daniel came up with two possibilities regarding "Chicago": either it was a dialectical deviation from "shikaakwa", which meant "wild onion" in the tongue of the Miami, or it was a corruption of the German words "schick" and "auge", meaning "fit" and "eye", respectively. What wild onions or well-shaped eyes had to do with Des Plaines, he couldn't guess, but that was but a small example from one of Nick's many bouts of delusional behavior.

"You have grown to become a fine young man," Nick continued, oblivious to Daniel's doubts. "You have attended the finest schools, excelled at rhetoric, horsemanship, firearms, and fencing. You have become someone any man would be proud to claim among his progeny, and you did it all without my wealth or influence."

"Uncle Ned helped me," Daniel blurted unexpectedly. At Nick's look of confusion, he decided to explain. "As you know, it was my nanny who rescued me from the fire the night my parents died. At first, I think she was afraid to go to you for help, so she took me to live with her at her cousin's house in Boston. Eventually, we needed our own place to live--uh, for various reasons--so she went to Edward. He concocted a scheme to set her up financially as though she was his mistress and I their illegitimate child, and thus he was able to divert finances by an inauspicious means."

Nick chuckled. "Always a clever one, my Edward, but I suspect Miss Desala did her fair share of the planning."

"She did," Daniel admitted. "Oma raised me as though I was her own, but she also helped me to keep the memories of my parents alive. She taught me herself until I was grown, all the while saving for my formal education by tutoring others."

"In the arts of witchcraft and sorcery."

Daniel choked on a bite of his beef sandwich. "What?"

"I am aware of a great many things, young Daniel, including the occult talents of your nursemaid. Talents, I believe, that you share, inherited from your father." The duke appeared to be absolutely certain of the facts, calmly pouring himself another cup of tea. "Your mistress, too, shares these abilities, does she not?"

"Vala is my _fiancée_," Daniel reminded him tersely.

"She is not of noble breed."

"I don't care," he retorted. "I love her, and she loves me, and we will wed even without your approval, Your Grace. It's not as though I need to marry for wealth: the levies on barges travelling the Ohio River bring in more income in a month than many of your peers see in four. And that, of course, does not include the tobacco and cereal farms on either side of the river, nor the mills, railways, coal mines--"

Nick held up his hand to stop him. "You know our lands well, Daniel, for which I am glad... I would not want to leave Stargate in less-than-capable hands."

Though unspoken, Daniel caught on to the unspoken "such as Robert Kinsey". "Stargate is in my blood, Your Grace, but even were it not, I believe I would have been ensnared the moment Oma told me how it came to be called so."

"Ah, yes…" Nick took on a distant expression, as though reading from a paper held before him. "'In jest, the gap through the Mountains was called the Doorway to Heaven, for the lands beyond were fertile, and after a mystic claimed the valley at the end of the passage was formed by a falling star, the whole region became known as Stargate,'" he recited, quoting the legend written down by his own uncle, the first Duke of Stargate.

A smile crossed the old duke's face. "There was once I time I believed the story to be a fool's tale, but no longer." His gaze strayed to the crystal skull, which grinned menacingly back at the two men from its pedestal. "Sorcery or no, I give you my blessing to your marriage, and I hope that I may one day enjoy the company of great-grandchildren."

Nick was rapidly approaching eighty years of age, but he was still robust and sound of body, despite the increasingly frequent lapses of his mind. Somehow, Daniel didn't doubt at all that the stubborn old duke would live long enough to see his great-grandchildren say their first words. "Can they call you Grandpa?"

"Certainly!" Nick exclaimed. "Of course, you are welcome to the do the same."

Daniel couldn't stop the smile that broke across his face. "Thank you... Grandpa."

* * *

Cameron Mitchell blew on his hands, then rubbed them together briskly. The cold snap they'd been having for the last few weeks was not unusual for this time of year, but it was terribly inconvenient when one spent the night patrolling the streets. Of course, he and his partner didn't spend the _whole_ night outside, but those few stops they made inside the city's taverns only made the cold seem more bitter when the brief rest came to an end. Of course, by about three o'clock in the morning, even those places were closed.

He and Jack were stopped at the moment, but it was not any place warm. Instead, they stood near the edge of a pier, watching as a pair of ferrymen wielded boat hooks to pull a floating object in to shore.

A child's corpse.

Casting a quick glance at his partner and mentor, Cam was not at all surprised to see his expression was closed. Although Jack himself had never said anything on the matter, scuttlebutt around the policeman's yard was that Jack O'Neill, a decorated Army officer, had joined the newly-minted police force after the unexplainable deaths of his wife and ten year-old son. Of course, Jack himself had never said anything to Cam, and the younger man doubted he ever would.

The ferrymen grunted, and with a sickening, squelching _thunk_, the corpse was hauled onto the pier. Jack immediately knelt beside the small form and peeled back the piece of fabric that had wrapped itself around the child's face with his gloved fingers.

Cam swallowed heavily. If not for the slightly swollen features and the sharp contrast of bloodless skin and bruised shadows, the girl might have been asleep. She was a thin thing, poorly dressed for the cold weather, and couldn't have been more than six or seven years old.

"Poor lassie," muttered one of the ferrymen. "Pro'ly slipped on a patch o' ice an' fell in tha water."

"Third one since they started building the new bridge," remarked the other man, leaning on his pole.

"You think they've been playing on it?" Cam asked, brows furrowing.

The ferrymen shrugged. "Widnae be odd," the first one replied. "Tha bairns hae ne'er seen a bridge made o' iron beams, sae they be naturally curious aboot it."

"I think she and her friends were out there darin' one another to cross the beams, when this 'un slipped and fell in," the second ferryman declared. "I think they must've all panicked and--"

"_I_ think we shouldn't jump to conclusions," Jack interrupted. "Did anyone actually see her fall in?"

"Nae," answered the Scottish ferryman. "Ah saw tha lassie floatin' near tha bank an' flagged ye doon, but Ah dinna see 'er fall in wi' me own een."

"So that's a 'no'." Looking over his shoulder, Jack motioned for Cam to come closer.

Although reluctant to get close to the body, Cam guessed he was in for another "Jack O'Neill Investigative Procedure" lesson, and knelt next to his partner. "What do you see that the rest of us don't?" he joked lightly.

"When someone drowns, does their body sink or float?"

Cam frowned. "Sink... but after a few days, doesn't it come back up?"

"It does," Jack confirmed. "But by then, it has soaked up water like a sponge. This body's features are barely distorted, so why was she found floating?"

"Because she's not very heavy?" Cam guessed.

"Cute. No, I suspect she didn't drown at all, but was dumped into the water only this evening. My housekeeper tells me that the dead give off gases after expiration, and it is those gases which cause a body to float to the surface after drowning."

"Your... housekeeper."

Jack shrugged. "Janet Fraiser. She's a hell of a cook and the best herbalist and apothecary in the colonies... maybe in all of Britain. She knows more about what makes people tick than the quacks and snake-oil peddlers who've studied at world-famous universities."

Cam grinned. "Cool."

"What?"

"I said that that was 'cool'."

"And what is that supposed mean?"

He sighed. "It's something I heard the bohemians use... it means something is very neat... er, fascinating. Top-notch but with an easy air. Um..."

"Okay, I think I get it," Jack cut in, waving him off. Groaning, he rose to his feet, and the resulting pop in his knees made even Cam wince. The elder policeman then waved to the undertakers.

"Poor grave?" asked the chief undertaker, directing his assistant to cover the body.

Jack pursed his lips. "Actually... do you have a cold area you could store her for a day or two? I'd like to have the body examined by an expert... see if we can't figure out more precisely how she died."

The grizzled man grunted. "She drowned, didn't she?" Taking in the glare Jack leveled at him, he amended, "But I have a stone cellar I use for holding nobles until their funerals can be arranged."

"Use it. I'll be along tomorrow afternoon with my... expert."

The two policemen stepped off the pier onto the street, leaving the undertakers behind them to do their work. Instead of resuming their patrol as Cam expected, Jack turned them down the street from which they'd come when the ferrymen waved them down to the river.

"Checking for witnesses?" Cam guessed, noting that their direction was taking them up-river.

"Yes. I doubt we'll find any, but it doesn't hurt to check." Tugging his scarf closer about his neck, Jack glanced over at Cam. "So you think my housekeeper's hobby is... 'cool'?"

"Yeah!" he exclaimed. "The lady I've been calling on is into herbal stuff, and makes this great paste that is the best damn liniment ever... I bet it'd make your knees feel ten years younger."

"Courting, are we?" Jack grinned. "Maybe your lady friend should meet my housekeeper... swap recipes... that sort of thing. I'm sure Janet will find it 'cool' to meet another female apothecary."

"Oh, I'd love to, but I'm not sure that would help my suit any. Carolyn's father has been trying--unsuccessfully--to get her away from that sort of thing, so I doubt he'd be happy with me encouraging her."

Jack stared at him. "Carolyn? As in Carolyn _Landry?_"

"Yes, sir!" Cam confirmed cheerfully.

"You're courting the commissioner's _daughter?_" He shook his head. "You sly dog, you."

* * *

Light flooded the room, awakening Jack with its sudden brilliance.

"Gah!" Jack exclaimed, grabbing a pillow and throwing it over his head. "Janet, would it _kill_ you to wait five more minutes?"

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

Surprised to hear a male voice, Jack sat up straight in bed, blinking at the late morning sunlight streaming in through his windows. "Walter?"

Walter Harriman, the new valet, stood with his fingers still wrapped around the drapery cords. A short man of indeterminate middle years, he had apparently impressed Janet so much she hired him on the spot without bothering to interview any of the other applicants, though Jack was not yet sure why.

"Yes, sir. Missus Fraiser instructed me in the proper time to awaken you, sir."

Eyeing the pocket watch on his nightstand--which showed the time as only a little before noon--he crossed his arms and glared at the bespectacled man. "And did she instruct you in the proper manner in which to awaken me?"

"Of course, sir," Walter replied proudly, "she insisted I simply throw back the draperies to let in the sun."

Once again defeated by the tiny scrap of a woman, the policeman hung his head. "Of _course_ she did."

Apparently satisfied he'd followed his duties to the letter, the valet began setting out Jack's shaving implements and clothes before leaving the room briefly to retrieve a pitcher of warm water. "Sir, Missus Fraiser has informed me that there is a 'Daniel Jackson' here to see you. Though he did not introduce himself as such, she believes she recognized him as the Marquess of Howesville, Duke Ballard's heir."

Jack grunted, shooing Walter to the door again. "If it's the Daniel Jackson I know, she's right. Have him to wait for me in the den... he knows where it is."

Ten minutes later, shaved and comfortably dressed, Jack bounded down the stairs, enjoying the relatively pain-free state Carolyn Landry's salve gave his knees. Janet had practically salivated over the concoction when Jack brought it home, and almost immediately began scheming to invite the commissioner's daughter over for tea.

"Lord Jackson is in the den," Janet informed him as soon as he reached the base of the stairs. "Should I have refreshments brought in?"

"I don't think he'll care, but I could use some food." At her arched eyebrow, he explained, "Marquess Jackson doesn't stand on decorum, Janet. In fact, he insists I call him by his given name, Daniel. I've known him for only a few weeks, but I'm quite certain he won't mind if I break my fast while we conduct business."

"Of course," Janet replied, with an implicit _if you say so_ added with the swish of her skirts as she turned toward the kitchen.

"Oy," Jack muttered. If he didn't already like Janet so much, he was certain he could quickly learn to hate her.

Shaking his head at the incongruity of _that_ thought, Jack entered his den and smiled at the sight before him. Daniel Jackson, Marquess of Howesville and heir of Stargate, was lying on his back on the floor, propping his head up with folded arms while he stared at the ceiling.

"Reminiscing on the good ol' days?" Jack joked.

Daniel grinned at him. "Just putting things into perspective," he answered cheekily. Rolling to his feet in a manner that made Jack momentarily envious of his youth and flexibility, Daniel held out his hand in greeting.

After shaking his hand warmly, Jack gestured to the extra chair in the den. "Unless you'd rather sit on the ottoman, for old time's sake," he teased.

"Tempting," Daniel replied, "but the last time I did that, you moved me, and what would your housekeeper think if she came in here and found me sitting on your lap?" That image caused both men to break into laughter. After their mirth subsided into chuckles, they sat--in separate chairs--and each took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"So... what brings you to my humble abode?" Jack finally asked.

"In part, I wanted to see you again. I also thought of thanking your housekeeper and her daughter for the excellent care, but the closer I got to your home, the more foolish I felt. How could I explain? 'Thank you for taking care of my cat' doesn't quite convey my feelings on the matter, either, but it's about the closest I could come without..." He gestured vaguely and finished, "Without getting into 'details'."

"Ah. Cool."

"Cool?"

"It's a term my partner taught me a few days ago," Jack explained. "Apparently, it covers all things fascinating."

"Oh. Uh, cool."

Jack grinned wolfishly. "So! I just got up for the day, so Janet should be along shortly--pun not intended--with some food. Care for a light snack?"

"I wouldn't want to insult her hospitality," Daniel replied, nodding. "I must say, I was in for quite a shock when she opened the door. From a foot off the floor, she always seemed _much _taller."

As their laughter died down, Janet entered the den bearing a covered tray. Eager to help as always, Cassie trailed behind her bearing a ceramic carafe and matching cups. "Boiled eggs, blueberry scones, and sausage links," the housekeeper announced primly, sweeping back the lid to display the named dishes.

Daniel sniffed the air. "Coffee?"

"Yes, Lord Jackson, but I can have tea prepared if that is your preference," she replied graciously.

As Jack knew he would, Daniel flinched slightly at the use of his title. "I _love_ coffee, Missus Fraiser, but I would be honored if you would please call me Daniel."

"It would be highly inappropriate, Lord Jackson," Janet insisted, taking the carafe from Cassie's hands and pouring each man a cup of the fragrant brew.

Her hands now free, Cassie allowed her curiosity to override her sense of propriety, and gaped at Daniel for a moment. Suddenly, she threw herself at the the young lord, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "Blue! You came back!"

"Cassandra!" Janet gasped.

"Cassie?" Jack sputtered.

Surprised by Cassie's exuberance, Daniel's hands remained on the arms of his chair for a moment, but then he brought them up and encircled the girl. "I did indeed, Miss Fraiser," he replied, pulling her back a moment to look her in the eyes. "I want to thank you and your mother for taking such excellent care of me when I stayed here."

"How did you know?" Jack asked, amazed.

Squirming under her mother's mixed disapproval and disbelief, Cassie smiled nervously. "It's the _eyes_, Momma, Uncle Jack. Blue's a person now."

"I always _was_ a person," Daniel corrected, squeezing her arms affectionately. "But, for a time, I was a cat. If the two of you will please sit, I will attempt to explain."

Without hesitation, Cassie plopped herself down on Jack's ottoman, an eager expression on her face. Janet was more reserved and skeptical, however, and paused a moment to ask, "You were a _cat_?"

Apparently deciding to show instead of tell, Daniel raised his right hand in the air, and the rocker Janet kept in the corner slid across the floor and stopped next to the ottoman. "Have a seat," Daniel offered.

Eyes wide, Janet did as he asked. Cassie giggled at the stunned expression on her mother's face, while Jack comically peered around at the back of the magically moved chair, then at the young wizard, and back again.

Satisfied he'd gotten the stubborn housekeeper's attention, Daniel began. "Jack tells me that you are a gifted herbalist, Missus Fraiser, a skill to which I can certainly attest. But much as you have a talent for knowing which plants produce which results, my talent lies in being able to envision events and outcomes and make them... _possible_. Most people would call it magic."

"You're a magician?" Cassie asked, excitedly.

"We call ourselves 'wizards'," Daniel replied, smiling at the girl. He then proceeded to explain how, on the night he came to Jack's door, he had been chased by a gang of hoodlums and decided to change into a cat to escape them. Daniel deliberately left out all mention of Anubis or evil wizards, Jack noted, but instead said that the terrible cold and twisted knee he'd suffered as a human translated to his new feline form, and that the injuries and illness made it difficult for him to concentrate hard enough on changing back to human. Then, to Cassie's delight, he briefly demonstrated his ability to shape-change into the brown tabby they all remembered.

"And what of the ruffians?" asked Janet, having finally managed to regain her composure once Daniel was human-shaped again.

"Well, that's the other reason I came: I need to talk to Jack about them, seeing as how there's no other policeman I can trust with--" he waggled his fingers "--_this_." He licked his lower lip and looked up at the two women through his eyelashes. "I _can _trust the two of you to keep my abilities a secret?"

"Of course," Janet replied immediately, even as Cassie exclaimed the same.

Jack had to suppress a snort. Though Janet and Cassie had once fed Daniel the Cat by hand, Daniel the Wizard now had _them_ eating out of his palm. The young lord might have been uncomfortable with the use of his titles, but he clearly had no qualms about using his good looks and natural charm.

After giving both Fraisers a gentlemanly kiss on the hand, Daniel requested he and Jack be allowed to conduct their business in privacy. Once the den door had been securely closed behind Janet, the wizard leaned forward in his chair and wrapped his arms around himself. "Jack," he began, "I'm afraid I once again need your help."

* * *

Jack's brows lowered and his whole demeanor shifted. "What can I do for you?"

There was no joke about Sam "blowing stuff up again", as Daniel had half-expected, which proved that Jack was taking this matter seriously. "It's about Anubis... He's been rather quiet of late, and I'm worried what he may be up to under the proverbial table. Has anything... unusual... happened recently?"

The inspector's eyebrows rose. "Unusual? How so?"

"Unexplainable crimes. Mysterious sightings. Anything that might be impossible to explain through normal investigative means." A part of Daniel hoped Jack would say 'no', that Anubis was merely lying low after having failed in his attempt to kill him. His more pragmatic side recognized that any and all clues to identifying the dark wizard's aims would be essential to the continued safety of himself and his friends.

"It's funny you should say that," Jack answered at last, washing down his last bite of scone and setting the coffee cup aside. "There's been a rash of accidental deaths in the last year, but the most recent was only a few nights ago. Now, I _say_ accidental because no one can prove otherwise, but I find it suspicious when a six year-old girl turns up dead for no reason."

Daniel sighed. "No signs of struggle, I take it?"

"None at all." Jack shook his head. "To be honest, I'd never really made any sort of connection between these people, other than the fact that all were residents of some of the poorest quarters of the city. Actually, most weren't even my cases, as they were found by or reported to other patrols. While our commissioner does his best to keep politics out of our business, it's unfortunate but not at all surprising that the untimely death of a factory or dock worker doesn't warrant the same level of investigation as that of a merchant or lord."

The marquess frowned. "Just because someone is poor doesn't make them any less human."

Jack raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "You're preaching to the choir, Daniel. Just because a crime goes unsolved doesn't mean it should be dismissed, and an influential family shouldn't be the only reason a case is pursued. Commissioner Hammond fought this fight until the day he was retired, and his successor, Landry, is continuing the battle. Bastards like Kinsey are the ones cutting our funding, and they're doing it by citing the amount of time we 'waste' on the poor."

Daniel felt his face heat in anger. "I'll see what I can do about that. Getting back to the original topic, however... how is cause of death determined? Is it merely an external examination, or is there a doctor called to perform an internal examination?"

"External only, from what I understand," Jack answered, "however I had Janet to look over this last one. Daniel, she's the best physician I ever met, and even she had to conclude the cause of death was 'unknown'."

Had he still been in cat-form, Daniel was certain his ears would have pricked up. "'Unknown'? Not 'accidental'?"

"Well, all the others have been ruled accidental, and had I not been there when the body was recovered, this one might have been, too. The men who found the girl thought she'd been playing at the new bridge site and slipped and fell into the river. There were tell-tale signs of a drowning victim which I _didn't_ see, which led me to believe she died elsewhere and was dumped in the water to get rid of the body."

"But the cause of death was undetermined," the wizard pressed. "Is there any way I could see the body?"

Jack shook his head. "I'm sorry, but the city had her dumped in a common grave almost as soon as Janet finished her examination. I managed to hang on to a woven bracelet she wore, in the hopes I can use it to find her family, but that's it."

Daniel pursed his lips. It was entirely possible he could use the child's bracelet to summon forth her spirit, but tampering with the dead was something he was always reluctant to do. At the moment, he still had no idea what--if any--connection existed between Anubis and the rash of 'accidental' deaths, so he vowed not to use such a drastic measure until and unless it became evident dark magic was involved.

"Let me know right away if another 'unexplained' death occurs," he asked, and received a nod. "If Anubis is to blame, I should be able to detect the use of magic on the body." Daniel exhaled slowly. "Anything else?"

Jack began to shake his head, but then hesitated and shrugged. "The same night you were attacked, there was an unexplainable burglary at a chemicals factory. Twenty barrels of wastewater were stolen."

Daniel flushed again, though this time in embarrassment. "Uh, not-so unexplainable, really."

"Oh, really?" the policeman drew out, a single eyebrow lifting. "What in the world does a marquess-slash-wizard need with twenty barrels of wastewater?"

"I don't, but one of Sam's contemporaries--an engineer named Siler--needed the acid in the wastewater for some sort of metal-shaping project. Vala helped him to, ah, 'acquire' the materials."

Jack snorted. "Your fiancee's a thief?"

Taking a sip of his coffee, Daniel feigned a look of innocence and replied, "Only on weekends."

TBC!

* * *

Author's Notes:  
We're looking at one installment per month, which is probably the best I can manage with my current class schedule! Thanks, as always, to Nyx for the constant nagging... er, I meant 'encouragement!'


End file.
